


Best Laid Plans

by amoeve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Han Solo, Getting Together, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Discussions, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoeve/pseuds/amoeve
Summary: In the days after the Death Star, Han notices that they find excuses to touch each other, casually, constantly, grounding themselves in the evidence that they survived; but now there are unspoken desires filling up the spaces between all three of them, tension cranking up as they remain unsaid.(Otherwise known as: feelings are never simple when there are Skywalkers around.)





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> There is now a podfic for this story, available [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909355), by the incredibly talented bessyboo, reena_jenkins, and azdaema!

Look, he might play up the sarcasm and the folksy charm when he has an audience, but Han’s been around the block a time or two, and if he doesn’t have book-smarts, well, that hasn’t stopped him from learning. He’s flown loop after loop around the spiral arms of the galaxy and seen many strange things, not the least of which was the realisation that that mystical Force shit wasn’t just some old religious hokum. Someone wielding that power could have a tangible impact on solid matter. He’s seen Luke move things around with a wave of his hand; he’s heard that the Jedi could read thoughts, and he’s seen Luke create them in someone else, and there are probably a load of other things, too, that sound like they come from fairy tales, but they’re real, and someone can learn how to do them.

But a healthy dose of scepticism is good for a smuggler, see. And so’s lulling the world around you into thinking you’re stupider than you are.

Han’s good at that.

He thinks that’s why Luke and Leia get so pissed off with him. The pair of them starting arguments over their passion and their principles, and then he says something sarcastic and they turn those piercing eyes on him, seeing so damn much. They know he could be so much more than some flyboy from Corellia out to make a quick buck and disappear off into the distance.

But he was _comfortable_ without the weight of someone else’s expectations resting on his shoulders. _That_ was a fate that he’d run the fuck away from, thank you very much, until he found himself caught between a farmboy and a princess; between a suicide run on a superweapon, and the twisting sickness in his gut that told him leaving them to pay off his debts was the wrong thing to do.

So maybe he’s not one to comment, but for two bright and brilliant people – and beautiful, too, let’s not forget that – Han doesn’t get how sometimes Luke and Leia can both be so kriffing dumb.

He’s not so smart either, to be fair, when he offers to step aside for Luke.

He thought he was being noble, okay? Alderaan was pretty heteronormative when it came to human couplings, and they were strict about noble families not gaining too much power through marriages of more than one person. So he thought Leia would, you know, appreciate the decision being taken off her hands.

He stares at her, covered in mud and sweat and the grime of fighting in a forest, and wonders whether the flecks in her eyes are just a trick of the light or if they’re reflections of the burning pieces of Death Star littering the atmosphere as she gazes at the sky, and he thinks, _Luke’s probably better suited to her, anyway_.

The kid’s sweet, and kind, and calm, and has a steady heart under that pretty face. He’d never, for example, get bored and plot a chart around a new sun just to see how close he could go without scorching the paint on the _Falcon_ ’s side, or pick fights with Leia just to find out how she feels about stuff instead of, you know, _asking_ her.

So in conclusion Han assumes Leia would do better with Luke and also that she thinks she has to choose, so he does the dumb thing, and says, “I won’t get in the way.”

And she looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Luke’s my brother.”

Han doesn’t get it. “...So?”

 _Leia_ doesn’t get it. “It’s…” she tilts her head at him, bewildered. “Hold on, you’re from Corellia. Don’t you all have, like, five parents?”

“Not me _personally_ ,” Han says, waving his hand. “I didn’t have any parents to speak of. But there are loads of poly relationships on Corellia, yeah.”

Leia looks even more confused. “So why are you of all people acting like I have to declare that I’m choosing you? And why – ” she sits up sharply – “are you offering to _not_ be with me?” She shoves him, and his shoulder thuds against a log. “I broke into Jabba’s palace for you, you ungrateful git! I had _feelings_ for you _in public_. Twice! In front of – ” she waves her hand at him – “gangsters and lowlifes and Darth kriffing Vader!”

“Well, okay, this wasn’t my _best_ idea,” Han protests, “but I thought you might wanna be all traditional and Alderaanian about the one-person-per-person thing,” because he was _trying_ to be considerate and do all that noble shit that a princess might expect, and it’s really not panning out like he thought. Which isn’t a _bad_ thing, he loves Leia and all of her infuriating ways and he wants to be with her in a way he hasn’t felt about anyone except – well – except Luke, but he wanted to respect her culture, so… it made sense in his head at the time.

“Oh.” Leia’s mouth turns down. “Did you think that Luke and I…?” she shrugs. “Well, anyway.” Leia looks at him again, arch and sharp and he really wants to kiss her, but there’s something strange in the air between them now, and it doesn’t really seem like the time. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“Hey, I don’t _want_ to, I was trying to be all cultured and respectful,” Han says. “It’s okay, Princess, we can talk to Luke.”

Leia stares at him. “We don’t have to make an announcement. He knows how I feel about you.”

He hasn’t followed her around that last mental corner. “Shouldn’t we ask him before deciding he’s going to join us?”

Leia flinches back. “ _What_?”

Han doesn’t quite know where he’s going wrong, but he’s got that weird feeling like he might accidentally have flown too close to a planet’s gravity well and he’s not sure if he’s going to make it back out again. “Uh – what?”

She presses her fingers to her forehead. “I know you didn’t miss the part where we’re twins.”

“No,” he says, “I missed the part where you care about me, and you care about Luke, and yet you don’t see the logical connection here.”

Her fingertips are rubbing at her temple, now, catching wisps of escaped hair as they move. “Don’t most people care about not being related to – ?” she stops. “You know. Their partners.”

Han shrugs. “Not on Corellia. We’ve have had gene therapy for as long as we’ve had space flight! We got rid of congenital diseases for most sentient species thousands of years ago, why should we worry about sharing a few extra genes with other people? Hey, plus,” he nudges her, “you can both feel the Force, and each other. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Leia’s hands are now buried in her hair, knuckles white as she massages her scalp. “Corellians,” he hears her sigh, before she says, and he can hear the ‘I’m-keeping-calm’ chant she’s probably got going inside her head, “My brain’s going to go the way of the Death Star if you keep this up right now.”

He holds up his hands, and she looks up at him, her face schooled into stillness.

“He’s cute, that’s all I’m saying,” Han says, “and I think we should talk about it, all three of us.”

Leia thumps him, stands, and stalks away into the forest.

“Well, shit,” Han sighs, leaning his head back against the log, wondering how long it’ll take for Luke to get back from his secret mission, and what the fuck is going to happen when he does.

 

*

 

Luke smells of smoke when he comes back to them.

He holds on a little too long when Han hugs him, and there’s something much older in his eyes than there was before he went back to Dagobah after their little adventure in Jabba’s palace.

“You okay, kid?” Han resists the urge to ruffle the hair of the last known Jedi in the galaxy.

“Yeah.” It’s like a big release of breath, like something inside Luke is settling back into place. “I thought I wasn’t getting out of that one.” His eyes roam over Han’s face, and then he turns that gaze – _hungry_ , Han thinks, some kind of feeling defined entirely by what’s missing – on Leia, taking her in where she sits among the pilots of the Rebel Alliance, smiling, a battered metal cup in her hand. “I honestly thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

Han sees, even at this distance, Leia’s hand tighten around her drink – and as she looks up, he _feels_ something crackle across the clearing, the lines of her body orientating toward Luke. Han can almost hear Luke say something to her without words crossing his lips.

She hands off what she’s holding to Wedge, brushes off her skirt, and strides towards them.

The first thing Luke says when he throws his arms around her is: “I’m so sorry.”

Over Luke’s shoulder, Han sees confusion cross Leila’s face. “Why? I knew you were all right. I could feel it. Even if you are hours later than I expected you,” she adds, tartly.

Luke’s shoulders sag as he exhales. “Vader found you. I was thinking about how I needed to keep you safe, and – I don’t even know how, but he learned about you. Plucked the thoughts right out of my mind. I was so afraid,” he says, and Han can see Leia close her eyes and pull Luke closer, her fingers threading themselves into his hair. “He changed his mind in the end, he turned on the Emperor to save me, to save _us_ , but – ” Luke shakes his head. “I put you in terrible danger. I thought I was going to die knowing that he’d come for you next.”

“That’s a hell of a thing, kid,” Han says, stepping closer, giving in to the urge to run his hand up Luke’s slender back, resting it on Luke’s shoulder, inches from Leia’s fingertips.

As he moves, Leia’s hand curls against the back of Luke’s head, pulling his face up to look her in the eyes. “Hey,” she says, fiercely. “Vader failed to break me once. You think I wouldn’t have defied him again just because it turns out he donated half our DNA? If you’d died, if he’d come for me, I would have _torn him to shreds_.”

 _Huh_ , Han thinks, as Luke manages a watery laugh.

“He came back to the Light,” Luke says, stepping back from her. “It doesn’t excuse anything he did, but at least he did _something_ good before the end.”

Leia tugs Han in for a hug, throws her arms around both of them. “We all survived. That’s all I care about,” she says, and Han can’t feel the Force but he can sense something taut in the air, like music right on the edge of his hearing, or a wave coming in that brings warmer water surging up to the shore.

Han’s going to say something, suggest slipping out of the celebration and into something more comfortable, like the _Falcon_ , and maybe locking the doors for twelve hours, but then all of the pilots of the Rebel Alliance and a forest full of Ewoks descend on them with drinks and drums and dancing, and that’s it, they’re the centre of the celebration and there’s no way they can get out of it, and it’s no time to be having personal discussions about the ambiguous romantic statuses of his two favourite humans.

Chewie looks at him oddly when he doesn’t look delighted to have Corellian brandy, liberated from an Imperial shuttle, pressed into his hands.

He lies about how momentous a moment it is and proceeds to drink as much as he possibly can.

 

*

 

The problem is, though, that those little non-moments are as close as they get to talking about it. Leia avoids catching Han’s eye for the rest of the party, but comes to his bunk that night. When she launches herself at him, she kisses like she wants to burn him up from the inside, and it gets driven and savage and she’s in the process of tearing off his shirt when she pulls back, panting, and says, “I can’t, I can – I can _feel him too_ – ”

But when Han, his hands still easing her collar down over her shoulder, says “Leia, I don’t care if you two don’t,” she hauls herself away, angry and stung, and he’s sure he sees a tear slipping down her cheek before she storms off the ship.

And yet, in the days after the Emperor’s death, after _Vader’s_ death, Han notices that they all find excuses to touch each other, casually, constantly, a tap on a shoulder or the squeeze of an arm, grounding themselves in the evidence that, yes, this is real; that they survived, and now they have to work out how to continue the fight. The Empire is realigning itself and trying to hold onto its power, and there are a lot of things filling up the silent spaces between all three of them, tension cranking up as they remain unsaid. 

Han sees Leia turn around in empty rooms, and every time, Luke steps through the door within a few seconds of her head tilt – and she glares at _Han_ when he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Shut it,” she hisses, even though Han hasn’t said a word.

He holds his hands up. “I ain’t saying anythin’.”

Because he can see how they shape themselves towards each other, and then stop, the words _twins_ and _Vader_ hanging between them in the extra five inches that seem to serve as a buffer zone – something that they didn’t care about before, but seem to police obsessively now. He sees Leia’s eyes close and Luke’s mouth firm and watches them dance around this new space, and every time he tries to talk about it, Leia glares at him, and so the days pass.

He tries to talk to Luke, too. A week after the Death Star, they’re fixing up the _Falcon_ , and he opens his mouth, and Luke just _looks_ at him.

“You’ve been thinking pretty loudly for a while now, Han,” he says, and Han can see he’s aiming for the kind of calmness that befits a Jedi, but he just looks like a tired young man, kind of defeated and wondering how to get through what happens next.

“Luke – ” he says, and he reaches out, grips Luke’s shoulder, turns him so they’re facing each other, “Look. I don’t care about many things, okay? But I do care about the two of you.”

To his surprise, Luke steps right up and presses a warm, lingering kiss on his mouth, and then Han’s got his arms full of Jedi and they’re making out like teenagers against the side of the ramp. Eventually, it’s Luke that pulls away. “I know you care about us both,” he says, fondly, longingly, running a hand down Han’s back. “But it’s complicated for Leia. Which means it’s complicated for me.”

And there’s such a sense of finality to it that Han isn’t even slightly surprised when Luke steps back, his lips quirking in a rueful half-smile before he disappears into the forest.

“Huh,” Han says, because he’s getting the picture, now, that two out of the three people in his ideal relationship scenario are on board with it, which puts an entirely different complexion on the situation, because as of ten minutes ago he’d thought the odds were that he was the only one.

Han has never been very good with denial. His patience is especially short when it comes to _Leia_ in denial (cf his last big effort, shouting at her in a snowy tunnel on Hoth, and also his success in pulling off the worst pickup line he’s ever inflicted on a woman, “I’m nice men”).

So two days later he snaps, and, in the middle of a stilted and polite conversation about when they need to leave Endor, and supplies, and next steps, and getting in touch with Admiral Akbar, he says, “What’s freaking you out more – that you actually love each other? That you want me, too? That you’re twins? Or that Vader was your father?”

And when they stare at him like he’s making no sense, he just can’t be around them any more. “You know what? I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and heads down the ramp, out of the _Falcon_ , and into the forest.

 

*

 

Han’s not surprised when it’s Lando who comes to find him. Chewie’s too fond of those crazy kids – all this time in tall-treed forests with other furry aliens seems to be bringing out his pack mentality. Family – found or by blood – are permanent fixtures in a Wookiee’s life. The death of a parent is a big thing; their ritual mourning can last for years.

It doesn’t matter that Vader was just their biological father, or that he’d slaughtered half the galaxy and also tortured all three of Chewie’s human clan at different times. It was the principle of the thing. He was their father, he’d died to save Luke, and now he was dead. That meant that Luke and Leia were orphaned cubs who needed protection, and Chewie had appointed himself their guardian.

You can take a guy from Kashyyyk, but you can’t take millennia of Wookiee instincts out of the big walking carpet.

“Aw, man,” Han groaned to himself, realising Chewie’s definitely going to bawl him out later for letting his feelings boil to the surface. You do not shout at cubs who had lost a parent. You just don’t.

“Out for a Solo walk?” Lando calls out.

Han doesn’t even bother shaking his head. “That’s terrible, even for one of your jokes,” he says, gazing up at the wreckage in the sky, the stars beyond, and the occasional glint of light off the ships still doing cleanup.

He can practically _hear_ Lando shrug as he walks closer. “What’s on your mind, you old pirate?”

“Who’da thought we’d ever be heroes?” It’s not what Han actually meant to say, but whatever, he hangs out with Jedi and princesses now, he can be deep if he needs to.

“Who’d‘ve thought you’d ever think about settling down?” Lando counters, and that earns him Han’s fiercest glare. He holds up his hands, looking like he’s trying to bite down on a shit-eating grin. “What? Chewie dropped into Thykarann for a moment back there. It was… revealing. When I finally remembered what half the words meant.”

Han blinks, not really understanding why Chewie using one of the rarer Wookiee dialects has anything to do with it. “What did he say?”

Lando squints. “If I’m translating correctly… that you laid down the formal challenge of love to your defaulting ones.”

“My default what?”

“Potential spouses,” Lando explains, not hiding his smirk. “Apparently you have verbalised your understanding of what your relationship must overcome. Quite an important part of courtship, apparently.”

Han laughs. “I guess I did at that.”

“Chewie was very impressed that you chose a Wookiee form of proposal,” Lando continues, with warmth. “Though he feels it’s a bit rushed. A decade or so is considered appropriate for a Wookiee courtship. He’s currently worried that he’s going to need to chaperone you all in public for the next ten years.”

“Now I know you’re pulling my leg,” Han smiled at his old friend.

Lando tilts his hand this way and that. “Don’t bet on it. Chewie’s gonna have words with you when you get back. He was serious about wanting to know whether the cubs realised you offered marriage to them.”

“I’m sure he ain’t the only one who’ll be having words.” Han rubs a hand across his chin. “Maybe I fucked up,” he sighs, and he knows Lando’s taking him seriously when his old friend doesn’t say anything like ‘ _Again_?’. “They’re twins, Lando.”

And this is why Lando became his friend in the first place: the guy just blinks at this startling revelation that Luke and Leia, who _everyone knows_ snogged that one time on Hoth just to make Han jealous and the entire Alliance thought that was wild because of Leia’s status and family and culture, are related. Then he says – “And they both feel the Force? _Damn_ ,” and that’s pretty much it.

After a few minutes, he adds, “Few years back, I was in a relationship with twins for a while.” He glances at Han, slyly. “Identical,” he adds, which Han interprets as _female_ , because Lando’s tastes have always run one way.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a traditionalist like you,” Han says, expansively, flashing his brightest grin. “I like to keep my options open.”

Lando cracks up. “You’re a terrible liar, pal,” he says, throwing an arm around Han’s shoulders. “You’ve thrown yourself behind exactly one option, despite how much your honies are freaking out about it.”

Han decides not to deny the truth. “S’not my fault they’re being dumb.”

“Charming as ever,” Lando murmurs. “I have no idea what they see in you.”

 

*

 

Luke and Leia are facing each other across the dejarik table when he gets back.

“I’m sorry for pushing so hard,” Han says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, and when Leia looks surprised, he can’t tell if it’s because he apologised, or because he snuck up on them. Luke twists around and pins those bright blue eyes on him. “I just – it could be so good. That’s all.” He shrugs. “But I’ll drop it, if you want me to.”

Luke reaches over the back of the chair, his hand almost close enough to grasp Han’s jacket. “We talked,” he says.

Han looks from Luke to Leia, and then back again, since Leia’s got her best inscrutable face on. “Yeah?”

Luke glances at his sister. “It’s still complicated.”

“The Vader thing is a headfuck,” Leia says, in a tone that suggests she’s correcting him, and Han starts to laugh. “Cut it out,” she folds her arms and glares at him, “or I won’t get to the part where we agreed that we both want to be with you.”

Luke flashes her a grin. “If you won’t, I will.”

Leia just rolls her eyes and mutters something about moon jockeys.

Han suppresses a smirk, allowing the rush of warmth to fill his chest and trickle all the way down to his toes. “Relationship by committee. I can’t believe I’m letting myself in for this.”

Leia pulls a face, leaning forward. “It’s still… for me, at least, it’s – ” she looks at Luke, rather more helplessly than Han’s ever seen her look at anyone before, and he loves her even more in that moment of vulnerability than he did when she was facing down his future in carbonite, dry-eyed and stoic.

“You’re not sure you want to be with Luke too?” Han attempts to translate, and they both look at him again, then back at each other.

“No,” she says, but not in a way that sounds like she’s agreeing with him. In a way that sounds like that’s what Leia _does_ want, but there’s something holding her back. “That’s not it. I don’t know. I _hate_ not knowing.”

Luke turns back to face her. “You don’t have to make your mind up now,” he says, gently, leaning over the dejarik table until she looks up and meets his eyes.

“Sure,” she says. “I know.” She runs her fingertips over his cheekbone, his lips, before she pulls her hand back, and Han tries very hard not to think that it looks like she’s already made her decision, actually, and it’s the one he and Luke have made too, and he doesn’t know why she’s denying that she has. He dismisses his own train of thought as he leans over the back of the chair: Leia’s issues are her own, and he can at least respect them even if he doesn’t quite get where she’s coming from. And then Leia adds, “If I get there… it’ll be in my own time.”

“Sure,” Luke echoes, squeezing her hand for a second before they both pull back again.

“So… what now?” he asks, eyeing them both.

Leia looks up at him with fire in her eyes. “Now I focus on what I _have_ made up my mind about,” she says, standing and moving around the table. “There’s something I’m owed, thank you very much,” and she wraps her hand around Han’s lapel and starts steering him toward the bunk she hasn’t been in since the party after the Death Star's fall.

“What about Luke?” he asks, tilting his head around to see that Luke’s already on his feet and following behind them.

“We didn’t quite finish our discussion before you came back, actually,” he tells Han, sunnily. “We didn’t decide which one of us gets to watch.”

Han stops dead, one hand darting out to tug Leia back to him, the other already grasping at Luke’s shoulder. “Tell me I heard that right.”

“We did agree that we both wanted to be with you,” Luke reminds him. “Just because Leia’s not so sure about being with me too right now…” he leaves it hanging.

“I’m working on it,” Leia says, “and I want you both to be there, so,” she twists her hands in Han’s jacket, “into the bunk, flyboy.” She brings her mouth to his, and then, holy fuck, Han feels Luke’s arm snake around his waist as Han’s kissing Leia – and then Luke’s mouth presses against his neck, teeth sinking in just a little, and a hot burst of pleasure flares low in his belly. 

“That is one order I’m happy to follow,” Han says when he pulls back, slightly dazed. With identical smugness and matching smirks, the twins take one arm each and haul him off to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> My original intention was to write Leia working through her revelations about her identity through the beautiful medium of watching Han and Luke make out, before deciding that it looks like fun and she’s not going let weird Vader shit get in the way of her being with the two cutest guys in the galaxy, especially if she gets to be in the middle sometimes. But, uh, Han and his Feelings got there first. 
> 
> Guess I’d better start working on the sequels then...


End file.
